An awfully un-British presidency

No one should mourn the passing of the UK’s presidency of the EU. Indeed, the only bad point about the end of the UK presidency next week is that presumably it brings us closer to the next UK presidency – unless, that is, the (David) Cameron Highlanders, clad in kilts and bike helmets, march the UK out of the EU in the meantime.

It is not the substance of the UK presidency that I have most difficulty with. This was a presidency whose 'success' would be measured by only one yardstick (or metre rule): whether or not there was a deal on the EU's budget for 2007-13. In the befuddled euphoria of Saturday morning, José Manuel Barroso, the European Commission president said: "I was not always agreeing with the British presidency but honestly this was a very successful presidency." Since there was a deal on the budget, perhaps one should, like Barroso, in a spirit of generosity, acclaim the UK presidency a success and be grateful for the concessions it made in order to secure that deal.

Yet generosity of spirit has not exactly been a defining characteristic of the UK presidency. Leaving aside the substance, the style of the UK presidency has been mean-minded, grudging and selfish.

A distinction might charitably be made between the UK civil service and the politicians whom they serve. What we used to call the Rolls-Royce minds of the civil servants (before Rolls-Royce cars became a byword for business failure and the company was bought out by the Germans) seem to have slaved away assiduously to deliver what was asked of them. The working groups were well-prepared and well-run. Difficult dossiers, such as the services directive and the REACH directive for regulating chemicals, were deftly handled. The presidency did its homework and kept interested parties informed.

That cannot be taken for granted. I began covering EU affairs during the last UK presidency and I can recall at least two presidencies since then whose chairmanship and (lack of) organisation were roundly criticised.

But the quality of British diplomacy was not enough to win enthusiastic support in Brussels for the UK presidency and its plans. Instead there was a kind of disenchantment mixed with grudging acquiescence. The UK presidency will not have won many friends. The intended charm offensive was stronger on the offensive than the charm.

The Hampton Court summit was something of an exception. It had modest ambitions, but it did seem to improve the European mood music.

But across a range of portfolios, not just the budget dispute, UK ministers jumped into the bully-pulpit and told the rest of the EU what to do.

Gordon Brown, the finance minister, is permanently fixed in brow-beating mode. On EU matters he always comes across as if in a protracted sulk over being excluded from the Eurogroup.

But other British ministers could be just as haughty and just as full of defensive self-congratulation. There was a kind of crass gracelessness about the way UK ministers sought to claim the credit for anything and everything. The natural reaction of any sane observer was to deny the UK the credit and attach any blame that could be mustered. In this way, the presidency was its own worst enemy. Whatever happened to those British qualities of irony and understatement?

British ministers' obsession with justifying their actions to a UK domestic audience was all-consuming. The etiquette of running a presidency - with an eye to the common good and at least the appearance of neutrality - was junked in favour of outright self-interest.

When, in the run-up to the summit, Jack Straw, the foreign minister, said he did not think it would be appropriate to go into a further defence of the UK rebate during a presidency press conference, his audience was left amused and bemused. Why the sudden late onset of scruples? Nothing had prevented the abuse of the presidency platform up to that moment. Sure enough, it was only a temporary (and no doubt convenient) attack of discretion. Two days later, at the presidency press conference which closed the European summit, Tony Blair said: "It is important to point out that in terms of net contributions, the UK and similar-sized countries will come into parity for the first time since we were members of the EU."

Europe might have marvelled at this even-handedness if it hadn't been asleep at the time.

Blair appears interested in and by Europe but would, one senses, prefer not to deal with the EU itself. He is ready to make bilateral agreements but engaging with the institutions of the EU is something for which he has lost any appetite.

Over the years, he has alienated many of those who were once his allies - Silvio Berlusconi, Jacques Chirac and Gerhard Schröder among them - so that nowadays when he turns up at EU summits he looks like a man short of friends.

But it would be wrong to suggest that Britain has a monopoly on this kind of behaviour. In recent years we have seen other larger member states struggle to cope with the role of honest broker.

It seems to be a role that comes more easily to smaller countries, which are often less entangled in the most contentious dossiers. Ireland, Finland and Denmark seem to have developed an appealing combination of hard work and self-deprecation.

It will be intriguing to see whether when her turn comes the German Chancellor Angela Merkel can improve on the track record of the larger member states. Will she build on the plaudits she won during last week's budget negotiations? Or will she prove as disappointing as did Gerhard Schröder in 1999, paralysed by the next round of elections?

The EU must hope that Germany's politicians rise above the example set by the British.